The Riddle House
by Chloe Grey
Summary: Harry, Ron, and Hermione are looking for a Horcrux at the Riddle House, but they didn't expect to be staying there this long. I'll most likely be adding more to it. HG RHr pairing
1. Chapter 1

**The Riddle House**

"Oh, shut _up_, Ronald," Hermione promptly elbowed the towering redhead in the stomach.

"Give it a minute, woman…" Ron rolled his eyes, and none-too-delicately pried a tattered piece of parchment from the talons of a small, auburn owl.

"What is it?" Harry inquired. He shifted in his seat, desperately running a hand through his untidy hair. They needed _something_, and soon.

"Boys! Now is not the time, do you not see where we-"

"It's from Lupin! Harry – look!" Ron interrupted Hermione, vaguely waving her off. As Harry hesitantly took the letter from Ron, the annoyed expression froze on Hermione's pale face. She gaped for a moment and her hand – which was manicured, rose-pink, and topped with a light purple corsage to match her dress – slowly rose to her mouth.

"What does it say?" she murmured, using the same hand to tuck a few curly tresses of hair behind her ear. Ron only shrugged, eyeing Harry suspiciously. Harry met his gaze for a split second before his curious emerald eyes flickered to the yellowed parchment.

_Harry-_

_Meet me in the cottage hall after the rehearsal. I've got something to tell you about You-Know-Who…_

Harry's gaze darted hopefully to Ron, Hermione, and back to the letter.

I'd say more here, but I am afraid this bloody owl can't tell water from bricks. We don't want any nosy guests getting involved, now do we? Hope it finds its way to you.

_Remus _

Harry tilted his head slightly and found Hermione's dark eyes reading the note from over his shoulder. Briefly amused, as the owl had indeed originally carried the letter to Ron, who was sitting two chairs away from Harry, himself. Hermione made a satisfied yet curious 'hmm' sound as she finished reading. Three pairs of inquiring eyes shifted to the ex-professor sitting a row behind them. Lupin was staring in the general direction of the laughing couple – Bill and Fleur, that is – although his mind seemed elsewhere. The werewolf's hand was loosely intertwined with that of Nymphadora Tonks, who was wearing a dark purple dress, contrasting sharply with the witch's bubblegum pink pixiecut. Lupin seemed to sense he was being watched, because his eyes slowly snapped back into focus and round Harry, Ron, and Hermione studying him intently. The tired-but-happy looking man smiled and casually pointed his free hand at the temporary – and temporary looking, at that – cottage standing adjacent to the Burrow.

Harry nodded, scrutinizing Lupin's expression – or lack thereof. The sixteen-year-old was faintly aware of Ron and Hermione turning back around in their seats, but he couldn't seem to take his gaze of Lupin… as he shifted slightly, as Tonks rested her head on his shoulder, as he smiled – whether in at something wedding-rehearsal related or Tonks-related, Harry wasn't sure –, and even when people began to stir as the ceremony came to an end.

_Lupin knows something… he might have a lead… this could be __**it**_Thoughts raced through Harry's mind like an upset Firebolt. Finally, as groups of Weasley relatives and family-friends rose around him, Harry quietly turned around. Most of the people Harry knew were still seated – laughing, talking… crying. A hysterical Molly Weasley was hugging Fleur, mid-sob; the French blond looked as if the breath had been knocked out of her, but a happy smile spread across her face and she hugged her soon-to-be mother-in-law back. Harry saw Moody talking with a pair of smirking Fred and Georges, and by that, a literal _pair_ - alas, doubling charms. Harry's eyes traced many familiar faces, many, many redheads, one in particular catching his gaze, and finally landed back on his two friends. Hermione was looking at her dress, and Ron was looking at Hermione. Harry held back a small smile.

"Let's go. Sooner we meet with Lupin, sooner we can grab seats for dinner."

Startled, Hermione quickly looked up at Harry – Ron blinked rapidly, blushed, and stood up – and Hermione slowly followed in suit. "Let's go, then."

The trio maneuvered across the lawn to the not-so-sturdy cottage a good portion of Bill and Fleur's wedding guests were staying in. Of course, Harry and Hermione had the ultimate _pleasure_ of sleeping in the Burrow instead. In fact, just this morning Harry had woken up to find Fleur and Mrs. Weasley arguing over bloody flowers, and that had only been the most sensible thing they had quarreled about that week. Reaching the dark, wooden door, a stream of music and laughter echoed from just inside. Hermione grabbed the handle roughly and hissed, pulling back her hand and shaking it as if the doorknob were on fire. "Blasted nail," she muttered angrily.

The brunette had been going on about her manicured nails ever since Fleur had forcibly convinced her a pink coat was desperately needed_. Girls_… which was also precisely what Hermione had grunted post-pink.

Harry pulled open the door, revealing crowds of guests, all with the look of people who were tired of being crunched together in the same tiny space. One woman, Harry could only assume she was one of Fleur's family, was yelling in French about a pair of stilettos lying in the middle of the room. Neville was sitting in the far corner of the wide living/entrance room, and he waved hello at Harry and Ron. Hermione was already headed to the back of the house, where a hall-shaped room stood, dimly lit, and almost empty. Harry waved back at Neville and dodged Fleur's bridesmaids, who were giggling at someone in an orange tux.

Harry stepped into the hall and all train of thought froze. He only hoped that he looked at ease on the outside, as his insides were raging, as if a fire had suddenly erupted in this ribcage. _Why _did this happen _everytime_ he saw her? Harry edged backwards, past Ron and Hermione, until his back was against the wall. The dark wood was cold and, acting as a wake up call, it sent Harry back to reality.

"Hello," Harry's voice, to his immense relief, came out casual and carefree – completely opposite from what he was, indeed, feeling.

"Hi. How're you all?" Ginny stood up suddenly, and pushed the elegant chair she had been sitting in back towards a coffee table in the room's back corner. She inspected the three of them, intentionally avoiding Harry's eyes.

"Alrigh-"

"Ron! Where's Harr- oh, hello Harry." Lupin bustled into the hall, his expression almost nervous looking.

"Hey Lupin," Harry replied, glad for the distraction, and for somewhere else to look.

"Hello Professor," Hermione chipped in with a smile.

"Hermione. Nice to see you… though, I do believe I've asked you more than once to not call me 'professor'…" Lupin trailed off, returning her smile.

"Sorry. Habit. So, what's it you've got to tell us, then?" said Hermione. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw Ginny, who had been beginning to evacuate, pause and glance at Hermione interestedly.

"Right, on to the point, then," Lupin took the chair Ginny had been reclining on and sat down. Now, even in the near-dark, Harry could see how tired he looked. The Order wasn't exactly _thriving_, one could say. "The Order has been looking for signs… or anything… and it was out of place, since…" Harry, suddenly, was only catching every other phrase; Ginny had come to stand next to him, although probably not intentionally, but still… "and Tonks and Moody found…" Harry _was_ the person closest to the doorway, and she had been leaving just then… "there was some evidence of life in the Riddle House, looked as if somebody was checking…" Ginny's hand, only a few inches from his own, twitched slightly, "so we – the Order – were going to see if –," As if Merlin himself had bewitched him and, without his control, Harry felt his own hand move, slowly, toward hers. "But Dumbledore said, once, before he, well, you all know…," Her hand was absently inching nearer and nearer to his, now, "…and so, instead of us going, I suggested the three of you look into it, because that would certainly be along the lines of what Dumbledore was suggesting," slowly, slower, in fact, than Harry wagered he'd ever done a thing, his fingers carefully intertwined themselves with hers. "…Harry…Harry?" Lupin's voice raised a notch, not loud, but just enough to seem shrill in the previously quiet – save Lupin's hushed tones - hall.

Ginny's hand shot back to her side, so quickly that Harry still felt the ghost of it in his hand for a good minute. He gradually pulled his own hand back, answering Lupin, "Yeah. I mean, if Dumbledore said…" Lupin's words were only just registering in Harry's fogged brain. "Wait… so, the Order thinks Voldemort was at the Riddle House… why?"

Hermione stepped on Harry's foot, and suddenly comprehending, his brain went through an 'ohh' motion. _There was a Horcrux at the Riddle House. Why else would Dumbledore be keeping tabs? Why else would Dumbledore have told the Order to alert Harry, the only other one who knew?_ The whole thing seemed painfully obvious, now, although, in Harry's defense, he hadn't exactly been paying the _closest _attention.

"Just something Dumbledore hinted, and now we have some solid proof of serious magic there. Although, I can't quite decide why Dumbledore wanted you three involved… any idea?" Lupin sat up in the chair, carelessly running a hand through his hair.

"No," Ron, Hermione, and Harry lied simultaneously. Lupin raised an eyebrow and studied three determinedly blank expressions. But, just when Harry was getting quite nervous, Remus Lupin sighed.

"I suppose he did always trust you all," he nodded at them, this time including Ginny, "…Also s'pose I can't blame him." Lupin smiled and got up. He placed his hand lightly on Harry's shoulder, "Good luck."

"Thanks. Er… you too," Harry replied. Ron and Hermione muttered goodbye to Remus, and Ginny started.

"See you at dinner Ron, Hermione… Harry," she dismissed herself with a final glance around the hall. Harry, Hermione, and Ron stood, staring at each other, mutely confirming their thoughts: They had to go to the Riddle House, find the Horcrux, and _get_ toit.

Charlie Weasley's head popped into the room, the rest of his tall figure concealed by the door. "Dinner. _Rehearsal_ dinner, at that. Better not be late, you know how mom gets." Ron grunted as to say _'if mum's going mad about me being late for __**dinner**__…'_


	2. Chapter 2

"Alohomora," Hermione pointed her wand at the back door of the Riddle's house, which was now so concealed by ivy that they had had a terrible time trying to spot it. _Well, the gardener _is _dead, _thought Harry grimly. The door creaked open, and several unidentifiable insects scattered outside. Ron squirmed, and Hermione rolled her eyes in response. She pushed the door open further, to expose a damp, dark kitchen. Some of the cabinets were hanging by a single latch, others had fallen off altogether, a stove was distinguishable from under a mossy coat, and the floors were pealing.

Hermione took a hesitant step into the house, Ron followed her with his hand wrapped firmly around his wand, and Harry brought up the rear. The door slammed behind them, and the whole house shuttered in reaction.

"What now?" Hermione whispered, running a finger along the notched and cracked countertops.

"S'pose it would be upstairs, then, right?" Harry replied. He stepped over a tattered piece of wood that had once been part of a cupboard.

"Well, let's get on with it, then," said Ron, who was sticking close behind Hermione while she picked through a pile of glass and porcelain. Harry made his way to the hallway, but just as he reached the entrance Hermione gasped. He turned his head in time to see her back right into Ron, where he attempted to catch her, but tripped over a stray piece of wood, sending them both onto the ground.

"What is it?" Harry asked. Ron stood up slowly and helped a rather pale Hermione to her feet.

"The-the glass. It's bewit-"

But she didn't have to finish her sentence, though, because just then, in perfect synchrony, each shred of glass rose from the table, froze for a moment, and then flew in every direction.

"DUCK!" Harry yelled. He dropped to the ground, but it wasn't much use, the glass simply changed its route, now soaring straight at him once again. "Okay, then, don't duck," he murmured to himself.

He tried a freezing charm, which worked for few seconds, but then the shards shattered under the cold, only forming _more_ chunks of glass. Ron seemed to be having the same problem as Harry.

"What do we do with them?" he screamed to Harry, jumping as a large flake flew by him. Harry looked around. The walls were embedded with glass; he turned to see Hermione casting levitation spells like crazy, sending each fleck individually away from her.

Harry had another idea, and he aimed his wand for a few intertwined goblets headed in his direction. Casting a vanishing spell, which wasn't exceedingly accurate, for it hit a ceramic mug, Harry nodded to Ron in encouragement.

Ron, however, had conjured a bubble-like cloak around himself; as the debris continually hit him, it rebounded and floored. After what seemed like hundreds of vanishing spells, Hermione directed a final, loud "Wingardium Leviosa," at the remains of the bewitched rubbish. Ron's bubble popped noisily, which was followed by a short silence before Harry suggested they move on. He walked slowly into the hall with his wand perched over his ear in a fashion only Luna Lovegood could match.

It happened just as Ron, Harry, and Hermione reached the huge, stone staircase. Hermione leaned against the dusty banister, still panting.

"Looks like this could be a bit harder than we thought," she gasped.

"I'd wager," was all Ron managed in response. His eyes were focused on a dresser across the hall, which was now shaking violently.

Harry, however, didn't say anything. A dark, scabbed hand half concealed by a long, ghostly cloak had appeared at the top of the handrail. Ice trickled down the railing, right to where Hermione was still propped up against it.

"Oh," she stood up straight, and glanced wearily at the frozen staircase. "Harry… it- it's a…Oh no."

Harry backed up until he hit the wall, the cold and damp wall. A feeling of utter terror swept over him. Dumbledore's death had set a cloud of depression over him, and happy thoughts tended to avoid him these days. The dementor crawled down another step, standing so tall that its hooded head was mere feet away from the marble ceiling. Harry was hardly aware of Ron's shout as a giant black widow emerged from the dresser to Harry's left. He was barely aware of the bat-like creature that was zooming around Hermione's head. He was scarcely even aware of pulling the wand from behind his ear. All he saw was the sleek, shattered outline of the dementor as darkness washed over him with a vengeance.

Focusing on a moment Harry had tried for so long to forget about, as thinking of it usually made him feel worse, Harry shouted in a determined voice, "EXPECTO PATRONUM!"

Light erupted from the end of Harry's wand, a light so brilliant that the darkness Harry had felt simply seconds ago was completely shied away. Yet, the silver shape that had formed before the three of them was not a stag, as was Harry's usual patronus. Hermione waved her wand effortlessly, and the small beast that had been giving her quite some trouble before fell to the ground benevolently. Ron was staring at Harry, perplexed, as the boggart behind him crept back into its dresser. Harry, himself, was utterly startled. Though the figure Harry had just conjured was rather blurry, and somewhat transparent, it was fairly obvious who had replaced the stag Harry had relied on since his third year at Hogwarts. A silver replica of Ginny Weasley was doing a stunning job at fighting of the dementor, which now was retreating back up the stairs. It drew the curtains, a fine crisp of ice consumed them, and dropped gracefully out the window. The patronus dissolved, its job fulfilled. Harry cleared his throat and made to climb the stairs. He could feel Ron and Hermione's eyes practically boring into his back. Harry had been convinced that he was doing a very good job at making them think he was over Ginny. In truth, however, he had been deprived of sleep night after night, at first because of Dumbledore, and later because of Ginny.

"Where do you get off dumping my sister while you're obviously still in love with her, eh?" Ron grabbed Harry's shoulder, and Harry turned to face him.

"I'm not…I, uh, broke off with her _because_ I love her. You don't seem to get it, do you? I'd think," Harry continued, suddenly furious, "that you'd have gotten it by now, Ron. Voldemort goes after the ones I care about…the ones I love. I ended it with Ginny for her own sake, because I care for her."

"Well, that's stupid."

Harry looked over Ron's shoulder, for the first time, at Hermione, who seemed to have just realized she had said anything aloud. She continued, however, hesitantly, "Stupid. Stupid to love someone, and to know you love them, yet want to push them away. And… and to deny to everyone – even yourself – how you really feel. _So_ stupid. Ridiculous, really."

An awkward silence met her words. Harry was in shock; how had she known? It seemed quite impossible that Hermione could know _exactly_ how he fel- Oh. Hermione seemed to become aware that Ron and Harry were staring at her incredulously.

"Er, sorry –," she glanced at Ron wearily, "we'd better keep going. Who knows when we'll be out of here…" And she glided past both of them to the hall at the top of the stairs.

Ron and Harry exchanged a look and followed slowly.


End file.
